Cold Case
by Katt9966
Summary: This is an AU fic and a sequel to my story “Photographs”, for this story to make sense it might be a good idea to read that story first. It’s an AU episode tag for “Cupid and Psycho”. Please read the warnings.


Title: - Cold Case

Author: - Katt

Rating: - R

Feedback: - Like it or loathe it let me know.

Archive: - Archived at the Shield Fanfiction Archive.

Warnings: - There will be mention of child abuse, if this subject upsets you please read no further.

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Author's Notes: - This is an AU fic and a sequel to my story "Photographs", for this story to make sense it might be a good idea to read that story first. It's an AU episode tag for "Cupid and Psycho". This sequel was requested by Angharad, and is dedicated to her. I had always considered a sequel to "Photographs", but her request for one gave me the kick up the bum I needed to sit down and write it LOL. Oh, and Angharad thanks for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this story too.

Cold Case

Chapter 1

Vic sat in the quiet clubhouse. The rest of the Strike Team had gone home a couple of hours ago, grins on their faces, and their relief at the news that Julian had withdrawn his accusation about the drug's theft evident. They'd invited Vic out for a few celebratory drinks at The Dugout, but he'd told them he had to get home and had taken a rain check on the celebration. In truth he just needed a couple of hours to release the tension that had built up since Julian and Aceveda had set IAD sniffing around him and his boys. While he'd kept up a confident persona in front of the team the whole mess had come a lot closer to unraveling than he cared to admit.

He'd picked up the discarded file, that Shane had been waving around earlier, in an attempt to take his mind off the "what ifs" that whirled around his brain and made his stomach tie itself in knots. Now he sat with it's contents spread out in front of him, hunched over, engrossed in the case that was unfolding in front of him as he read through the careful notes and reports.

He was so absorbed in the file that he didn't even hear the knock on the door, or realise that it had opened and someone had stepped into the room. So he jumped when an amused voice sounded right next to him,

"That must be an interesting case."

His head jerking around he said,

"Jesus, Claudette you nearly gave me a heart attack. Do you always creep up on people like that?"

A smile playing on her lips Claudette replied,

"I did knock, but you didn't seem to hear me. I just wanted to say thanks for helping me try to nail Manny Sandoval today."

Vic indicated the chair across the table from him, and as Claudette accepted the unspoken invitation he said,

"That's okay, I'm just sorry we couldn't get the little prick." Grinning across at Claudette he continued, "we worked pretty well together huh?"

"I guess," Claudette carefully replied, before adding, "no offence, but I'm glad things will be back to normal tomorrow…Don't tell him but I kinda missed my partner."

Nodding and thinking of Shane Vic agreed,

"Yeah I know what you mean."

The silence hung between them for several minutes until Claudette pointed to the file Vic had spread out over the table and asked,

"So, what's so interesting?"

"It's a cold case. Shane found it today in a box of crap Gannon left behind when he retired. He was looking for the Kelner file and came across this one too."

"You still haven't answered my question…What's so interesting about an old file?" Claudette pushed, her curiosity peeked.

"It's an unsolved murder," his voice dropping in volume, a note of sadness was evident in its tone. "A kid."

Without further elaboration he pushed three photographs across the tabletop towards Claudette.

Reaching out she slid the photos towards her and turned them around to face her. She paused for a split second before looking down at them. Even after so long in the job, and the things she'd seen, when the victims were children she still found it hard.

Three photos, all of the same little boy, laid out as they were they told a depressingly familiar story. Like a little photomontage of tragedy and horror and waste.

Claudette was aware of Vic watching her as she studied the trio of pictures, but for the moment she ignored him and concentrated solely on the photographs.

The first was a typical family snap-shot. She had similar photos of her daughters when they were children at home in a myriad of photo albums, and she supposed Vic had similar pictures of his children too. She guessed the boy was eight or nine years old. He was standing on an immaculately kept lawn, some shrubs behind him had been so well trimmed and controlled that they seemed to have had all the life sucked out of them, and they resembled cardboard cut-outs rather than living things. The boy was holding a very shiny, very new looking blue bike by the handle bars, his fingers curled tightly, his grip secure, making sure he didn't let it fall over onto the grass. He was tall and slim, dressed simply in a red tee shirt and jeans. Leaving the worst to last Claudette finally made herself look at the child's face. She always found these happy snaps of murder victims slightly disturbing. The smiling faces, happy people with no idea of the often brutal way their life would come to an end. Her eyes roved over the boy's face, taking in every detail. Brown hair flopped down over his forehead, and Claudette could imagine him constantly having to reach up and brush it back out of his eyes. The sun must have been behind the person taking the photo because the boy was squinting every so slightly as he looked at the camera. However, the sun in his eyes hadn't detracted from the thousand-watt smile he had on his face. She let her gaze linger on the happy, smiling image of the child before she forced herself to move on and look at the next photo in the trio.

There was no doubt that this was the same boy. The left hand side of his face was visible and he was wearing the exact same clothes as he had been wearing in the previous picture, making Claudette wonder how much time had passed between the two pictures being taken. In this picture the boy was lying on his front on the grass, his right arm was stretched out to one side, his left hand was curled up and lay next to his face. His eyes were closed, his face pale. He was obviously dead and this was a crime scene photo. Her eyes slowly scanning down the length of the body, she stopped when she saw the dark stain on the back of his jeans. She'd seen more than enough dried blood to know what the stain was, and she was also experienced enough to know how it had gotten there. Claudette felt a little pang of pain pass through her at the thought of how the little boy had suffered before his death.

With a slight sigh, that she hadn't quite been able to suppress, Claudette turned to the last photograph. She'd seen far too many autopsy photos not to recognise the setting for this last picture of the boy. The metal table he lay on shone beneath him, and Claudette felt a little foolish for suddenly being sad that the boy lay on such a cold, sterile, unforgiving surface. He looked so tiny and alone. Used and discarded. His pale face and blue tinged lips held her gaze; she noted the bruises that marred the cold, alabaster flesh. Without meaning to she looked from this image of lifelessness back to the sunny garden and that wide, warm smile.

Not wanting to look at the little boy any longer Claudette quickly reached out and pushed the photos together, and passed them back across the table to where Vic quietly sat watching her.

Clearing her throat slightly before she spoke Claudette finally looked up at him as she said,

"You said it's a cold case…How cold?"

"Freezing." Vic replied. "1978."

Sitting back in her chair Claudette shook her head.

"Why on earth would Gannon keep a 24 year old unsolved murder file?"

"Oh come on Claudette, we've all had these cases…The one that got away, was never solved. The one that keeps you awake some nights wondering if it was your fault, if you missed something. Don't tell me you don't have one or two of those tucked away somewhere."

Vic didn't miss the slight shudder that went through Claudette's body at his words, or the way she momentarily looked away. She didn't answer his question, but by her reaction she didn't have to, he already knew the answer.

"So why are you reading through it?" She asked.

Vic shrugged,

"Nothing else to do…I didn't feel like going home just yet and I thought I'd have a look. Then the more I started reading…well the more I got hooked, and looking at those photos…poor kid he deserves to be able to rest. The bastard who did this to him, he's gotten away with it for far too long."

Claudette stared at Vic for a moment surprised at the quiet determination and vehemence in his voice as he spoke. Then the image of a smiling face with floppy brown hair merging with a pale dead child cold and all alone on a metal autopsy table came into her mind's eye. Claudette found herself looking intently into Vic's blue eyes as she reached out a hand for the file and asked,

"Would you like a partner?"

Grinning Vic pushed some of the papers over to her and without a word they both began going over 24 year old evidence trying to find something that everyone else had missed.


End file.
